


Rest Easy

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [8]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Don't say goodbye, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hiding, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26893750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: Prompt No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO?“Don’t Say Goodbye”| Abandoned | IsolationAnd now they're in the middle of Central Park, using the trees as cover against the automatic weapons fire that's aimed their way, all while keeping pressure on the gunshot wound to Gil's abdomen to keep him from bleeding out before Dani and JT have a chance to catch their killers.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: October? No, I think you mean Whumptober [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947595
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Rest Easy

It's Malcolm's fault. It's _all_ Malcolm's fault. He should have realized that the facts of the case weren't adding up much sooner than he did. He should have recognized that the murders were merely a ruse to draw out the head of Major Crimes.

Gil.

And now they're in the middle of Central Park, using the trees as cover against the automatic weapons fire that's aimed their way, all while keeping pressure on the gunshot wound to Gil's abdomen to keep him from bleeding out before Dani and JT have a chance to catch their killers. 

"Hang in there, Gil," Malcolm says, raising his voice to be heard around the gunfire. Gil has his left arm draped over Malcolm's shoulders while Malcolm's right arm is around his waist, but with every step they take, he needs to support more and more of Gil's weight. 

He's not going to last much longer, and they both know it.

Malcolm's left hand is holding his balled up jacket over the wound in Gil's gut, applying as much pressure as he can while running through the trees.

A bullet zips by his head, so close that the air currents ruffle his hair and Malcolm drops them both down to the ground to avoid the spray of bullets that follows the first, shocked at how much it hurts to hit the ground. Gil groans at the unexpected impact with the dirt, his eyes scrunching shut tight as he tries his damndest not to scream and alert the gun-toting maniacs to their exact location. It's dark enough that the three men shooting at them probably can't see them on the ground. 

At least, that's what Malcolm is hoping.

He pushes himself to a low crouch and gets behind Gil, slipping his arms beneath his armpits and dragging him to the line of shrubbery maybe a dozen feet back.

Judging by the way Gil's body is going lax on the ground, running isn't an option anymore.

It's up to Malcolm to keep them hidden until the killers are caught.

He drags Gil through the brush and then takes a second to make sure there aren't any person-sized holes in the shrubbery that will give away their location. Then he drops down to his knees next to Gil and presses down on the jacket again, leaning in with more of his body weight than Gil can handle without crying out, but at this point, stopping the bleeding is more important than keeping him silent.

"Gil," Malcolm says quietly as Gil's eyelids flutter, his head drifting off to the side, "keep your eyes open for me, okay?" 

"Mmmm," is all the response he gets.

"Gil, please," Malcolm pleads, knowing that Gil is teetering dangerously close to losing too much blood. Malcolm knows, thanks to his lessons with Doctor Whitly, that there comes a point with blood loss that the body just can't function any longer.

He's worried Gil might be there.

"Kid," Gil says, his voice so soft that Malcolm barely hears it. If the gunshots were any closer, he probably wouldn't have heard it at all. Fortunately, their killers — a father and his two sons with an epic grudge against the man who took their wife and mother from them to spend the rest of her life in prison, regardless of the fact that she was responsible for the deaths of five students on a class outing — seem to be moving farther away, and Malcolm huffs out a breath of relief at the realization.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here, Gil," Malcolm assures him with an attempt at a smile, "just hang in there a little longer, okay?" 

"Kid, I'm proud of you," Gil whispers, and Malcolm can tell just how much it's hurting him to speak, but he pushes on nonetheless. "You're a good man. You're nothing like him."

"Don't," Malcolm tries, but the word gets caught around the lump in his throat. "Don't you dare say goodbye."

The corner of Gil's lip quirks up in an exhausted half-smile but Malcolm can tell he's not even trying to keep his eyes open anymore. Malcolm blinks back the tears that form in his own eyes, watching Gil fade away, being entirely unable to help.

"Not goodbye," Gil breaths out. His lips move for a second longer but nothing seems to come out, too weak to force the air from his lungs to form the words.

"Gil. Gil!" Malcolm shouts, but gets no response from the man.

Malcolm nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a branch snap close by. He'd been so distracted by keeping Gil conscious that he wasn't even listening for signs of their gunmen.

He holds his breath, praying that the man keeps walking, but then JT's voice calls out, "Gil! Bright!" And Malcolm nearly cries out in relief.

"JT!" Malcolm yells back around a sob, and it's only a matter of seconds before JT is bulldozing through the shrubbery, the beam of his flashlight landing on Gil's nearly lifeless body. Malcolm bites down on his lip to stop it from trembling, but JT doesn't even hesitate. He tosses his flashlight to Malcolm and bends down to pick up Gil, tossing him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry before straightening up with a grunt.

Malcolm is left stumbling to get to his feet and follow along in JT's wake as the man full on runs with Gil slung over his shoulders like he doesn't weigh a damn thing. 

Malcolm wants to ask what happened with the Jameson men, but he can't seem to make his mouth form the words. He assumes, since JT is running in a direct line to the flashing red and white lights of the ambulance on the street, that they've apprehended them, but he can't know for sure.

"Hey!" JT shouts to the paramedics when they're within yelling distance, "Officer down." 

The paramedics burst into motion at the sight of the men running their way and by the time JT arrives, the stretcher is pulled out and waiting for JT to deposit his load. As soon as Gil is down, they're a rush of motion, hooking him up to IV's, packing the wound, monitoring his vitals.

It takes Malcolm a moment longer to get there, and when he does, JT turns to him, a question on his lips that dies away as he catches sight of Malcolm's face.

"Dude, you okay?" JT asks instead, and, oddly, the question makes Malcolm realize that, no, he's really not.

Now that the adrenaline is fading, he's aware of a persistent ache in his shoulder and the way his vision has become sort of hazy and nowhere near as vibrant as it should be.

He brings a hand up to his shoulder and looks down as he pulls it away, surprised to find fresh blood on his palm.

"Oh," Malcolm mumbles.

Thankfully, JT is there to catch him before he hits the ground.

~~~

He wakes up slowly, feeling surprisingly well rested and relaxed, and allows himself to float in that half-awake/half-asleep state for longer than he usually would. Eventually though, he becomes aware of a dull ache in his chest and arm, and the more he focuses on it, the more unignorable it becomes.

When Malcolm finally cracks his eyes open, he's unsurprised to find himself in a hospital bed. He _is_ surprised to find Gil asleep in the bed to his right, and JT sitting in the chair across the room, idly flipping through a magazine.

"How's Gil?" Malcolm's voice is raspy, and he promptly becomes aware of just how parched he is.

JT looks up at the words, relief flashing over his features before they settle back into their usual unimpressed set. He pushes to his feet and heads to the bedside table, pouring a cup of water from the pitcher there and bringing it to Malcolm's lips.

"He's gonna be okay," JT says as Malcolm takes small sips. "Doc said he might be out for a day or two, but they got to him in time. Thanks to you."

Malcolm is overwhelmingly relieved to hear that Gil is going to pull through, but JT's words draw his attention back right away.

"Next time you get shot, though, you maybe wanna let someone know?"

He can tell that JT is angry at himself for leaving Malcolm behind in the park, but Malcolm didn't even know he was injured, too focussed on Gil, too much adrenaline pumping through his veins to pay his body any attention.

"I didn't know," Malcolm says simply.

JT stares at him a moment and then nods slowly, understanding that the situation was what it was and they're all just lucky to have pulled through.

"How 'bout next time you just avoid getting shot at all, then?" JT smirks and Malcolm knows that all is well between them.

"Deal," Malcolm smiles and lets his eyelids fall closed as the IV beside him pumps another dose of painkillers into his veins. He can rest easy, now that he knows Gil is safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to end this one where Malcolm passes out and JT catches him, but was told (in capital letters) not to do that. Lol!
> 
> So thanks, Kate, for making this less of an ambiguous ending 😂


End file.
